Legacy of Thrawn
by Aleine Skyfire
Summary: "I've got a bad feeling about this," Mara muttered.  ...AU to "Vision of the Future": What if Luke and Mara didn't damage the Hand of Thrawn?
1. Prologue: It Started out as a Feeling

**==Legacy of Thrawn==**

**Prologue**

**It Started out as a Feeling  
**

It was a huge room—they could tell that much—but it was completely dark, the only light coming from their lightsabers. "I've got a bad feeling about this," Mara muttered.

"Same old feeling, huh?" Luke murmured back, eyes straining to catch a glimpse of something—anything—in the darkness beyond.

Abruptly, a deep voice thundered, "Who dares disturb the sleep of Syndic Mitth'raw…nuru…odo…"

Mara tensed so tightly that Luke almost feared she would snap. "What the **** was _that_?" she demanded.

Luke frowned. "I'm not sure…"

"It was," a rich, smooth voice said from the darkness—causing Mara to gasp and lift her lightsaber, "a rather dramatic preclusion to a highly effective defense system. Forgive me for powering it down."

Luke glanced at Mara—her agitation had spiked at hearing the voice, and her face was now white. As if she had just seen a… "Mara?" he whispered. "Mara, what is it?"

She shook her head wordlessly, green eyes trained on the darkness beyond. "All right, Thrawn," she called evenly, belying her anxiety, "come on out."

Luke's eyes widened and flicked back to the darkness, just in time to see a shadowy form emerge.

A shadowy form accompanied by glowing red eyes.

The figure spread out its arms in a yielding gesture. "At ease, Miss Jade," it said mildly. "Or is it Jedi Jade, now?"

"_Captain_ Jade will do just fine," Mara bit out, green eyes stunned but storming.

Shocked himself, Luke leaned slightly toward Mara to whisper, "Is that really Thrawn?"

"Looks like it," she confirmed grimly.

The figure took several more steps forward in the combined, harsh light of the sabers, and Luke could indeed recognize him from the holos he'd seen. Rather than a Grand Admiral's white uniform, the man wore a black suit similar to Stent's, but the features were unquestionably Thrawn's. "Grand Admiral Thrawn," Luke nodded slightly.

The other tilted his head deferentially in return. "Greetings, Jedi Skywalker. Although I must request that you drop the title 'Grand Admiral'—I am simply _Syndic_ Thrawn as of yet."

"Lost your position with the Empire when you pulled your disappearing stunt?" Mara shot back, holding her lightsaber ready.

"Hardly," Thrawn returned calmly. He spread out his hands once more, palms up. "You may probe my mind, if you wish, Jedi Skywalker, and learn the truth. I only ask that you do no damage."

Luke frowned uncertainly—what game was Thrawn playing now? "…If you insist," he conceded.

"Luke…" Mara warned.

"It's okay, Mara," he assured her, hoping that he wasn't lying. He focused his eyes on Thrawn's motionless form, and stretched out toward the alien consciousness. Brushing against it, he discovered that the mind was barely alien at all, and he easily dove in past the opened mental barriers.

Memories. A lifetime of them.

"_Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo, you are hereby assigned to the Crustai station."_

"_I'm Jorj Car'das. Crewer on the freighter _Bargain Hunter_."_

"_Car'das and Ferasi: this is Syndic Mitth'ras'safis of the Eighth Ruling Family." A wide smile. "My brother."_

_Turbolasers slammed into the bridge of a ship, a sharp pain slicing through his torso before he fell unconscious…_

"_This is Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet, Lord Sidious."_

"_Alien force, this is Jedi Master Jorus C'baoth, commanding the Outbound Flight Project of the Galactic Republic."_

_An incredible force slammed him back against his command chair, holding his throat in a durasteel grip and steadily squeezing the life out of it…_

"_They're dead." Quiet. A touch of mourning. "All of them."_

"_There are all too few idealists in this universe, Car'das. Too few people who strive always to see only the good in others. I wouldn't want to be responsible for crushing even one of them. … Farewell… Jorj."_

"_Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo, for violations of the principles of the Chiss Ascendancy, you are hereby stripped of all rank and family standing, and sentenced to exile for the remainder of your lifetime."_

"_I'm offering Mitth'raw'nuruodo the chance at a position within the Fleet, Colonel."_

"_Perhaps my core name would be easier for the average Fleet officer. Call me Thrawn."_

Luke blinked. The sheer volume of memories suggested that Thrawn was at least as old as Luke's own father would have been were he still alive. But the feel of Thrawn's mind—not to mention the set of his facial features—seemed to indicate a man actually much younger than Luke was, himself. But how was that possible—

—Then he got it. His eyes widened, and Thrawn noticed. "Have you figured it out yet, Jedi Skywalker?" he asked quietly.

"Luke?" Mara ventured warily. "What's going on?"

"You're…" Luke stopped, shook his head in disbelief. "You're a clone."

The other man dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Very good, Jedi Skywalker. Yes, I am a clone—genetically twenty standard years, chronologically ten."

"A Spaarti clone cylinder," Mara breathed. "That's where you were created. Thrawn had one hidden away."

The clone nodded. "My host—my father, if you will—hid a cloning cylinder away to create me as a backup plan, just in case worst came to worst and he was killed. Worst _did_ come to worst, and here I am."

"Why ten years?" Mara frowned, her lightsaber still high. "Thrawn was churning out soldiers, pilots, and techs by the hundreds in mere _weeks_."

"True," the clone agreed, "but flash-learning can take much longer, depending on the amount being imprinted on your brain. In my case, I had to learn sixty years of memories, tactics, data…" He shrugged slightly. "Even given the speed of flash-learning, all that cannot be absorbed in a few weeks or even a few months."

Luke studied the young Chiss. "But ten _years_?"

The clone had the grace to grimace faintly. "The Grand Admiral also understood that all the tension in the New Republic would have to come to a head sooner or later. Ten years—"

"Would provide ample time for that, allowing you to waltz into whatever was left of the Empire and crush a divided New Republic with ease," Mara finished coldly.

The clone's face hardened. "Yes."

Luke shifted his own lightsaber so that he stood in a ready combat stance. "Is that what you plan on doing?"

The clone lifted his chin slightly. "That depends."

"On what?" Mara challenged.

"On if I deem that the best course of action, based on current events," the clone replied evenly. "You actually have a fifty-fifty chance of that _not_ happening."

"Right," Mara said caustically, stepping forward. "I'd rather not gamble on this one."

"Mara, wait," Luke called.

"Listen to him, Captain," the clone agreed, melting back into the darkness. "There are ysalamiri back here. If I grab a nutrient frame and start shooting, you'll be hard-pressed to stop me."

"Mara, please." Luke placed his free hand on her saber arm, then turned to the clone. "Would you allow us to bring you up to speed, so to speak?"

"I have already begun to update my knowledge of the past ten years, but I would welcome your input," the clone agreed. "Provided that we _all_ lay down our weapons."

"Mara?" Luke said, turning to her, his blue eyes searching her green ones.

She sighed, lowered her lightsaber. "All right, fine. But I'd better not regret this."

Instantly, the lights came on in the cavernous room, but more amazing than the awesome setup of the place was the smile the clone gave them that appeared to be genuine. "I don't believe you will."

**Author's Note:**

Once again, I start something when I know better… Fortunately, while this will be multi-chaptered, it won't be long. I'm sort-of reading VotF right now, and this idea popped into my head. So it's gonna be fun to play with Thrawn's young clone. *grins*

_**Please review!**_


	2. Ch01: Which Then Grew into a Hope

**Author's Note:**

Never, _ever_ start an AU on a book that you haven't read in years and haven't even read all the way through once. I made a mistake in the prologue. Luke and Mara were expecting the real McCoy and were surprised to find a clone—when in reality, the reason they were down there in the first place was to _find the clone_! When I realized that, I got _so_ mad at myself. I decided to leave the prologue as it was and come up with another explanation as to how they're down in the cloning alcove—it's brief, and you might miss it altogether, but it's there.

Anyway, a good chunk of Luke and Mara's conversation with each other here is taken directly from VotF, with a little bit of editing. Why write a _new_ conversation when you already have a good one already? ;D

Oh, and if you like this Thrawn fic, would you mind checking out my other two Thrawn tales, "All You've Lost, All You've Won" (death fic) and "Mother's Heart, Father's Spirit" (AU one-shot)? Please? So far, I haven't gotten _any_ feedback on them whatsoever, and I can't help but be saddened by this.

_Thank you to everyone who favorited or alerted the fic on its very first installment!_

**==Chapter I==**

**Which Then Grew into a Hope**

"_I do not need their permission to fight on their behalf."_

—Mitth'raw'nuruodo, "Mist Encounter"

Dark clouds rushed fitfully over the Hand of Thrawn, starlight flickering in and out of view of those planet-bound. Somewhere below, Chiss and Imperials worked on a devastated hangar, and a young Qom Qae waited for the reappearance of his human friends. And somewhere further below that, those same friends held conclave with a young clone through the night.

Just as his predecessor, the clone Thrawn was nothing if not simultaneously mild-mannered and intensely absorbent. He spoke little as Luke and Mara related to him the many events of the past ten years, his only interruptions brief questions to clarify details. His expression remained calm and impassive, his intense red eyes flicking back and forth between the two humans. Luke and Mara themselves took turns between speaking and sipping the caf that Thrawn insisted they drink and that Mara insisted that she herself fix.

Just because the kid _seemed_ okay didn't mean that she was going to trust him with making something she would actually be digesting.

To her chagrin, he'd caught on almost instantly, giving her a slightly amused smile. "As you wish," he'd shrugged.

It was nearly five hundred hours local time when they finished. Luke, who'd somehow done more talking than his partner had, looked and felt peaked—Mara, on the other hand, felt wired after five cups of strong caf.

Thrawn stood from his chair and began to pace slowly. Mara certainly saw his father in him, but oddly, more than that, she saw a boy. A boy who had slept for most of his short life, had his head crammed with more data than could fit into a hundred datapads, never before even had contact with any other live being—and now was receiving the weight of the galaxy onto his young shoulders. She saw uncertainty and exhaustion flash across his admittedly-handsome face, and she almost pitied him.

Almost. He was Grand Admiral Thrawn's _clone_. Even if he really did come out on their side, it would take some getting used to.

After a good five minutes of silence, expectation electrified the air, and Thrawn, at last, turned to them, though he did not stop pacing. "My father had an extensive campaign laid out," he said without preamble, "that could be launched at any time with minimal resources and still ultimately conquer the New Republic. I have no doubt that, were I to go to Bastion, take up command, and follow the strategies in that campaign, I could indeed defeat the New Republic."

Mara moved in her chair, intending to stand, but Luke laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. From across the room, Artoo, who had been left to fend for himself and was probably bored out of his circuits by now, tootled something distinctly sour.

The clone raised a cautioning hand. "I _could_. I did not specify that I _would_." He turned on his heel, pacing away from them. "You see, there are threats out here—" he gestured with an arm—"in the Unknown Regions, that could be excruciatingly damaging to the rest of the galaxy."

"There are a hundred different threats out there that would freeze your blood if you knew about them," Mara murmured.

Thrawn stopped in mid-step and looked over his shoulder at her. Similarly, Luke frowned at her quizzically.

"Something one of the Chiss said," she explained. "Stent. He told me that when Parck was giving me his sales pitch." She didn't have to explain that part—she and Luke had explained events as far as they knew them all the way up to the prodding of the Force that had led them to Thrawn's chambers.

Thrawn arched one elegant eyebrow. "I think that Commander Kres'ten'tarthi's assessment of the situation is actually a bit optimistic."

Mara snorted. "Sure didn't sound optimistic to me."

Thrawn smiled faintly. "I'm sure he didn't. But as dangerous as the 'known galaxy' is at present, the galaxy out here is absolutely cutthroat."

"Lovely place to settle down," Mara commented.

"It's something called 'property,' Captain Jade," Thrawn returned quietly. "When a piece of yourself goes into where you live and what you've built there."

Mara blinked. That sounded almost… personal. "Sorry," she murmured.

Thrawn tilted his head slightly, the only acknowledgement she received as he turned his back to them once more and resumed his pacing. "To return to the subject at hand, however… A galaxy divided against itself cannot stand against the dangers these threats entail. The New Republic apparently had a hard enough time with the Yevetha. Imagine if such a race were to attack the New Republic _now_."

Mara felt a shiver rip down her spine. Luke gravely voiced her unspoken thought: "Wholesale slaughter. We might never recover."

Mara shivered again. That was just about the shape of it.

"Precisely," Thrawn agreed. "The Imperial Remnant could not hold its own, either, and the Empire out here would be hard-pressed to."

Mara eyed him. "I think I see where this is going," she said cautiously.

"A truce?" Luke suggested.

"An alliance," Thrawn corrected.

She'd pegged it, all right. "That would be… quite an unprecedented course of action," she said, even more carefully this time.

"A fact of which I am well aware," Thrawn assured her. "But I don't believe we have any other choice. For me to conquer the New Republic _now_… I could possibly gather enough ships and troops to combat… certain threats, but I would lose valuable men, ships, and resources in the process of bringing the New Republic to heel."

"Valuable men, ships, and resources that would be better employed in combating these 'certain threats,'" said Luke.

"Exactly," Thrawn nodded sharply. "If I can unite the two pieces of the Empire and collaborate with the New Republic, the galaxy stands a good chance of not only winning against these threats, but suffering less loss of life."

Mara traded glances with Luke. It _sounded_ good, but they both well knew that nothing was ever as it seemed with Thrawn. "Here's a question for you," she said abruptly. "Grand Admiral Thrawn was well-known for mind-bogglingly complex schemes. How do we know we can trust you? For all we know, all this talk about 'certain threats' is nothing more than talk, and once you've united the Empire, you'll still destroy the New Republic."

She was actually just a little bit spooked by Parck and Fel's concerns about the Unknown Regions. Both were highly intelligent, capable men, and if they were worried, they'd have **** good reason to be. But the question still needed to be asked.

Thrawn's glowing eyes narrowed. "A good question, indeed. I'm afraid that at this moment, all that I can offer is the Caamas Document. I'm sure it's here in my personal archives."

Mara and Luke traded wary glances again. "You'll give it to us, just a gesture of good will?" Luke asked suspiciously.

"You have my promise, Master Skywalker," Thrawn told him, almost regally.

Luke glanced at Mara, who shook her head. "Thrawn was known to back out of deals," she admitted, studiously avoiding the clone's penetrating gaze, "but not promises. Promise given was promise kept."

Luke chewed at the inside of his cheek for a moment before turning back to Thrawn. "If you can find it, we would be very grateful."

Thrawn inclined his head. "I will start searching right away." He turned and strode the few paces to the computer terminal, settling in immediately.

Luke and Mara leaned in together, ready to confer.

"So, Master Jedi, what's your read on his intentions?" Mara whispered.

"He _feels_ sincere," Luke whispered back, "but I can't be for sure. I'm tired, and his mind is very well-shielded."

"That was always the sense I got from his dear old dad," Mara agreed. "Do you think we can trust him?"

"Do you?"

Five years ago—even just five _months_ ago—Mara would have said "kriff, _no_." But now… now, she hesitated. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "I'd—stang, I'd almost _like_ to, but this is _Thrawn_ we're dealing with."

"Not _Grand Admiral_ Thrawn, though," Luke corrected. "We're dealing with his clone."

"The difference?" Before Luke could reply, Mara added, "No, really. What _is_ the difference between the original and the clone?"

"That's an argument that's been going on for decades," Luke pointed out. "How close to the original is a clone? With the same genetic structure plus a flash-learning pattern taken directly from the template, a clone should theoretically be completely identical to the original person. But despite that, they're never _exactly_ the same. Maybe some of the mental subtleties get blurred over in transition, or maybe there's something else unique inside us that a flash-learning reader isn't able to pick up.

He nodded toward the clone. "He seems to have all of Thrawn's memories. But does he really have his genius, or his leadership, or his single-minded drive? I don't know."

Mara didn't speak, sensing that he wasn't yet finished.

Luke hesitated, then continued. "From what I've heard about the Clone Wars, the clone troopers were different from each other, especially the ones serving under Jedi commanders. Some became quite individualistic."

Mara frowned thoughtfully. "I remember hearing that, yes. Captain Rex of the Five-oh-first was a good example—wore armor that was decidedly Mandalorian, and… oh stang, I can't remember the rest. I think he was one of the clones that _didn't_ turn on his Jedi, and he just disappeared from the galactic scene."

"Disappeared, or was executed for treason?" Luke said pointedly.

"Point," Mara conceded. "I don't know." She sighed. "But that doesn't really help us with our current dilemma." Her eyebrows knitted together. "Okay, let's look at it this way: how would the New Republic react to Thrawn's return?"

"With the way Thrawn carved his way through the New Republic the last time," Luke shook his head, "they wouldn't trust him for a minute."

"You're probably right," Mara agreed. "Parck said there were rumors he'd returned, though how a rumor like that could get started I don't know. But he didn't mention what the reaction had been."

"And rumors are a lot different than if he actually walked in the door," Luke pointed out.

For a minute, they sat there in silence, the only sound being the clacking of computer keys from Thrawn's terminal. Then Luke took a deep breath. "I suppose it's an academic argument, really, when you come down to it," he said. "Whatever the original Thrawn might have done, this particular being hasn't done anything wrong." Mara raised an almost aristocratic eyebrow. "Not yet," Luke corrected himself.

"True," she agreed. "Though I imagine you'd have trouble convincing some people of that. Next question, then: do we actually let him join our friends upstairs? Bearing in mind that they're not too happy with either us or the New Republic at the moment?"

Luke whistled softly under his breath. "You sure know how to find the hard questions, don't you?"

"I've never had to find a hard question in my life," Mara countered tartly. "They've always found me first."

He couldn't help smiling. "I know the feeling."

"I'd rather you knew the answer," she said. "Bottom line: could Coruscant handle it?"

A low whistle came from the direction of the computer console, and both humans froze. Had that actually come from _Thrawn_?

"Master Skywalker, Captain Jade," the clone called, not turning to face them, "I found it."

Mara closed her eyes. This just kept getting better and better.

**Author's Note:**

It's certainly interesting, playing with Thrawn's clone. How close is he to the original, indeed?

Btw, that "brief explanation"? If you didn't catch it, it's that the Force prodded them down there. Original, I know, but it was my best shot. My apologies—I'll be more careful with such sensitive details in the future.

_**Please review!**_


	3. Ch02: Which Turned into a Quiet Thought

**Author's Note:**

Decided to change the chapter title for Chapter One, and give the Prologue a title, as well. Once the fic is finished, I'll explain why. I foresee this story being finished by the end of August—it's really one of those "short 'n' sweet" deals. Actually, I'm surprised that no one's done an AU in which the VotF clone survives—I can't be the _only_ fan who's ever wondered what would have happened if he had.

I feel bad for Timothy Zahn. Here, I'm doing in fan-fiction something that he wants to do in reality. Curse you, Lucasfilm, for not letting him have the whole EU to himself.

**To my reviewers:**

serenity8118: Thank you, and glad you caught the explanation! I actually think that Thrawn is not all that hard to work with, just as long as you're careful. _Extremely_ careful. =)

dark kronus: Pellaeon will enter the story with this chapter as his militant, slightly crotchety self. ^^ And as for Thrawn VS Flim—you're right, that _will_ be funny. Not so much _comic_ as simply a situation that lends itself to amusement. I can't wait to get to that part.

Imperial Warlord: Thank you very much! I can't get enough of Thrawn fics, and it saddens me that there are really so few out there! You'd think that one of the greatest fictional characters ever created would have more fan-fiction dedicated to him! (Writing my own Thrawn fics to help fill that gap is wonderful, but just not the same as reading the works of others…)

**==Chapter Two==**

**Which Then Turned into a Quiet Thought**

"_Many years ago, Thrawn told us that if he was ever reported dead, we should keep at our labors here and in the Unknown Regions, and to look for his return ten years afterward."_

—Admiral Voss Parck, _Vision of the Future_

He could _feel_ their eyes boring into the back of his head as he heard them stand and walk over to his terminal. "That's it?" Jade's voice said from above, sounding slightly strange.

"That's it," he confirmed softly.

The Caamas Document. The list of the Bothans who had destroyed Caamas's planetary shields.

Half a century of military discipline that he hadn't lived _personally_ kept him from clenching his hands into fists. Halfway-committed genocide on a race of peaceful, noble philosophers, devastated so that they would not be a threat to a coming New Order. Fire smoldered within him at the thought.

"Incredible," Skywalker breathed.

A piece of history—gritty history, but crucially important—revealed at last. Despite his brief flash of anger, Thrawn understood the feeling.

"You're sure this is real?" said Jade, her question just short of a demand.

"I'm running it through several checks right now," Thrawn assured her. "The computer will alert me if it finds something."

"I don't suppose your 'father' ever saw the Caamas Document himself," Skywalker queried, his eyes still riveted to the holo display.

"I'm afraid not," Thrawn told him, eyebrows drawing together. "At least—if he did, he didn't share that memory."

He felt rather than saw Skywalker nod. "Will you really give this to the New Republic, no strings attached?"

Thrawn turned to him then, eyebrows arched in polite surprise. "Master Skywalker, strings are _always_ attached. The strings in _this_ case happen to be a peace treaty, that's all."

"_And_ an alliance," Jade added.

"And an alliance," Thrawn nodded. The computer chose that moment to _ping_, and he checked one of the side displays. "As far as the computer can tell… the document is clean, no tampering," he reported, unable to keep a twinge of relief out of his voice. "This is it."

Jade let out an explosive breath.

"So," Skywalker ventured, "now what?"

Thrawn stood and moved around the chair so that he faced both Skywalker and Jade. "I want to return to the Empire. I want to give the Caamas Document to the New Republic. And I want there to be peace between our two governments."

Jade snorted. "Do you think they'll listen?"

"They can't afford _not_ to," Thrawn countered.

The two humans traded glances. After a few moments of silence, Jade looked down and inclined her head slightly, and Skywalker nodded. "Syndic Thrawn," he said, "we'd escort you to Imperial space ourselves, but our ship would be a little… cramped."

"And your hangar's still out of commission," Jade murmured, not looking up.

Thrawn nodded, relief blossoming within him once more. "There's another way to get off-planet."

Jade looked up sharply this time, morbid amusement tugging at her lips. "Don't tell me—let me guess. Secret hangar?"

Thrawn's reply was a decidedly boyish grin.

* * *

Sneaking up to Parck's office was surprisingly—and perhaps disturbingly—easy. When Thrawn reached the office itself, he founded the door unlocked and unguarded. He rapped lightly on it and heard a "come in" from the other side.

He couldn't help but smile—that was Parck's voice, all right.

Steeling himself, he opened the door and stepped into the room. "Good morning, Admiral Parck."

Parck's head jerked up from where he had been occupied with paperwork to stare at the young clone. The older man's expression was tired but shocked. "Is it possible?" he breathed.

Thrawn winced mentally. "Sir…"

But even as an aging man who'd just pulled an all-nighter, Voss Parck was fast. "Of course," he murmured, his eyes wandering over Thrawn. "Ten years… a clone."

Thrawn dipped his head in acknowledgement, then saluted. "Syndic Mitth'raw'nuruodo, sir."

"Good _stars_, Syndic, it's me who should be saluting _you_, not the other way around!" Parck told him.

Thrawn smiled faintly. "I'm afraid I'm only a syndic, sir, not a Grand Admiral."

"Not yet."

Thrawn dipped his head again. "Not yet."

As Parck stood and moved around the desk, Thrawn studied his—his _father's_—old friend. Parck's hair was completely grey now, and his skin creased with age. Humans aged quicker than Chiss did, but even so, Voss shouldn't have looked this old.

The pressure of maintaining a secret Empire and fending off the threats of the Unknown Regions had aged Parck before his time.

The thought made Thrawn ache a little.

The human hand that gripped his forearm was surprisingly strong, though, and Thrawn gripped the man's arm in return.

"Syndic," the admiral said warmly, "if anyone can reunite the Empire, it's you."

"Thank you, sir," said Thrawn, his heart hammering insistently against his ribcage. "I won't fail you."

* * *

"Do you think we should have let him go upstairs alone?" Mara wondered aloud.

"I think he's old enough to go places without being attended," Luke commented mildly from where he was giving Artoo a tune-up.

Mara gave him a dirty look. "You know what I mean.

"Little late for that now, isn't it?" he countered, imperturbable still.

"Consider me practicing the exercise of entertaining useless second thoughts," she shot back.

"Lot of big words there," Luke observed, his voice deadpan.

Mara shot him a double-take and saw amusement lurking in his face. "Go kiss a Hutt."

"Aren't any around these parts."

How could she be almost high on caf, he be exhausted, and _him_ chipper and _her_ snappish?

Maybe it was Monday. She never functioned well on Mondays—she went so far as to suspect that the day she'd failed to assassinate Luke had been a Monday on Tatooine. It wouldn't surprise her one bit.

"Relax, Mara," he soothed. "I'm _positive_ everything's going to turn out right." His words were a little more reassuring than his tone—something was off, there. Great. They still had issues to work through.

But she looked into his deep, deep blue eyes—the same deep blue as the open skies of his homeworld—and she couldn't help but feel a little better. "Okay, okay," she sighed.

He started to relax his shoulders—

"But I'm going to pace," she added.

His shoulders froze for a moment, then he laughed.

* * *

"Admiral, incoming transmission on the holopod unit. …Sir, it's from the Unknown Regions."

Pellaeon shot the lieutenant a sharp double-take. "Are you certain, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir." He pointed to his console, and Pellaeon leaned down to study it—

And froze.

He recognized those codes. It was as if the chrono had turned back ten years…

He drew a sharp breath. Whatever this call was, it was important, and he would not allow old memories and wishful thinking to interfere. Learning about Flim and Tierce had solidified one concept in his mind: Thrawn was dead, once and for all.

"I will take the transmission in private immediately," he informed the junior officer.

"Yes, sir," the young man saluted.

Pellaeon strode briskly away, feeling the first pangs of a headache. Only a few hours ago, he had finally called Grand Moff Disra, Major Tierce, and con-artist Flim on their deception, as well as brokering a temporary truce with Bel Iblis until a true treaty could be drawn up between the Imperial Remnant and the New Republic.

He'd only gotten three hours of sleep between then and now, and he was on the wrong side of seventy.

"_History is on the move, Captain,"_ he could hear Thrawn say in that exquisitely perfect voice. _"Those who cannot keep up will be left behind, to watch from a distance."_

Well, the galaxy would crumble around Gilad Pellaeon before he let himself succumb to age and exhaustion. He would not be left behind, not as long as there was work left to do.

He entered the holo-chamber and activated the projector. A life-sized image flickered into existence—

And, in that moment, Pellaeon would have sworn that his heart had stopped.

Because, in that moment, it was ten years ago, and he was staring at a tall man with pale blue skin, blue-black hair, and glowing red eyes.

One second later, he snapped himself out of his shock. The man before him was noticeably younger than Thrawn had been when Pellaeon had first met him, and a non-descript black uniform replaced the white uniform of a Grand Admiral.

But the face was _Thrawn's_…

The stranger was the first to speak, saluting as he did so. "Admiral Pellaeon," he said in that deep, exquisitely perfect voice, "greetings. My apologies for shocking you in this manner, but I felt a one-on-one conversation was necess—"

"Who _are_ you?" Pellaeon cut in, scowling.

The stranger smiled calmly. "I am the legacy of an old friend."

**Author's Note:**

Pellaeon, yay! I love him so much—one of the greatest Imperials ever. I was _really_ sad to learn that he was killed in LotF. Those books are well-written, but honestly, I hate them. Them and the Swarm War trilogy. They are just _wrong_. The current series, I've never had the chance to see, so I can't form an opinion about it either way.

Anyone here ever read the Thrawn fic _Hitchhiker_, by Shezan? If you haven't, I _highly_ recommend it—it's one of theee _best_ Thrawn fics I have ever had the pleasure of reading! It revolves around a younger Thrawn, Syal Antilles, Firmus Piett, and a handful of colorful characters. It really is absolutely five stars.

The sad part? The author never finished it, and it's been sitting as-is since '03. *whimpers* Not much chance of it ever being finished. I _hate_ it when people leave awesome fics unfinished! *sighs* Well, anyway…

_**Please review!**_


	4. Ch03: Which Turned into a Quiet Word

**Author's Note:**

Btw, I have a very short Thrawn/Parck one-shot up now. Semi-fluff, if you will. Please check it out!

I've left you a couple of YouTube links in this chapter—background music to enjoy while you read. I thought the pieces (from _Ghost in the Shell: Solid State Society_ and _Ghost in the Shell: S.A.C. 2__nd__ GIG_) very appropriate. Just copy and paste, and eliminate the spaces in the links. Maybe when I'm done with the fic, I'll work out a little playlist for it on my YouTube channel, RingSaberWardrobe.

I'm going to say right now that this story is very much a character-based piece. If you take a look at my track record, you'll see that that's what I tend to write. It's a pretty straightforward what-if, not a masterpiece complex plot. This story is about the characters, mostly Thrawn, Luke, and Mara. More than anything, it's really about how they deal with the situation they're in.

Sometime in the future, I may well come back to this concept with a friend (Mandalore Thrawn, to be precise) and churn out a longer, more complex story. So keep your eyes peeled! You never know when something may pop up…

**To my reviewers:**

whateveritis12: Honestly, the possibilities of what could be done with a clone of Thrawn are absolutely endless. In VotF, Parck apparently thought that the New Republic might accept him. I myself have been vacillating on whether or not the clone should introduce himself as a clone or as a son. The problem with being a son is that the Empire doesn't really owe a son anything—a son doesn't necessarily share his father's tactical brilliance. Here, in this chapter, the young clone gives Luke and Mara an alternative, one that I hope you'll concede.

Imperial warlord: Thank you. The Yuuzhan Vong won't _actually_ appear, since the window of time in this fic is only a few months at the most—but they do get some heavy mention under the title "Far Outsiders."

d-vader: Thank you! Oh, don't worry, Luke and Mara will still get together. I'm an incorrigible L/M shipper three years running, and this chapter should satisfy my fellow shippers pretty well. ^^

Actually, I disagree about deleting stories. I think that's a worse sin than leaving them unfinished. An acquaintance of mine once took down a series of hers that I'd really enjoyed, and I never saved the entire thing to my hard drive. I still kinda stew over that.

serenity8118: Thank you! Well, three and a half years ago, when I first started writing fanfics, I could not have written Thrawn. No possible way. When I started writing Thrawn fics just recently, I still wasn't sure that I could write him correctly, and that worried me. For now, I seem to be doing well… I have a couple of fics that have the real Thrawn in them—"A Little Cup of Caf" and "All You've Lost, All You've Won." If you could please maybe let me know what you think about the latter, especially… 'cause I haven't gotten _any_ feedback on it whatsoever, so for all I know, it could be terrible, and people aren't telling me. =)

**==Chapter Three==**

**Which Then Turned into a Quiet Word**

"Understand in turn that I will continue to protect my people in whatever way I deem necessary."

—Commander Thrawn, _Outbound Flight_

((http : / / www . youtube . com / watch? v=SP9jXt79joM&fmt=18))

Watching Mara pace, Luke shook his head. "Mara, if you don't let yourself get some rest, you're going to hate yourself later."

"Tough," was the unyielding reply. "I've been through worse. A certain Force-forsaken planet comes to mind."

Myrkr. Luke chuckled. "Right." He pushed himself up out of his chair and grabbed Mara's arm. "Come on, little girl," he wheedled, "it's past your bedtime."

"Little girl don' wanna go to bed," Mara mock-pouted.

Luke laughed—he was winning, after all. "Come on." Miracle of miracles, she let him pull her over to her chair and push her into it. Sinking back into his own chair, he reached out and took her hand.

Mara raised an eyebrow at him. "You're getting reckless, farmboy."

Luke grinned. "I know." His thumb began to stroke the back of her hand.

"Stop that," she murmured, her eyelids fluttering.

His grin softened. "Not if it puts you to sleep," he murmured back.

"Luke…"

He leaned over to kiss her forehead. "Good night, Mara."

"It's morning," she protested, her words slurred as her eyes closed.

They were both out in five.

* * *

Thrawn shut off the holo station and sank into a nearby chair, exhausted. He'd spent the better part of an hour explaining his existence to Admiral Pellaeon, and Pellaeon, in turn, had spent even longer in explaining Disra's coup. And then Thrawn had spent yet another hour in explaining such threats as the Vagaari and the Far Outsiders.

That last hour had gone a long way in convincing Pellaeon of Thrawn's identity and purpose. There was none of the semi-casualness that had characterized Thrawn's conversation with Skywalker and Jade or even his meeting with Admiral Parck—instead, the young clone had drawn upon five decades of military bearing and command to speak with the Admiral. He'd laid out the nature of the Vagaari and the Far Outsiders in as much detail as possible, had outlined for Pellaeon comprehensive plans for dealing with those threats—and had stressed his belief in the need for peace and cooperation between the Empire and the New Republic.

"_Your 'father's' goal,"_ Pellaeon had sternly told the clone, _"was order, stability, and strength borne of unity and common purpose. The only reason I am allowing you into the Empire, Syndic Mitth'raw'nuruodo—"_ and here, the good Admiral stumbled over the alien name—_"is because I believe you share that goal. I see your father's vision in you. If anyone can affect this coalition between enemies of almost four decades, it will be you."_

Thrawn had never doubted Parck's trust—Voss and Thrawn had been comrades almost from the start. Pellaeon's, on the other hand… Pellaeon's was harder-earned and all the sweeter-won for it. _"Thank you, sir,"_ he found himself repeating. _"I won't fail you."_

With a little effort exerted on muscles that were not yet strong, per se, Thrawn pushed himself up from his chair and strode out into the corridor beyond. Skywalker and Jade were probably wondering where in the galaxy he was by now, and it certainly would not do to have two anxious Force-sensitives on the loose in the base. Force knew they'd already done enough damage in sending _Jade's Fire_ into the hangar.

_Note to self,_ Thrawn thought wryly,_**two**__ public hangars after this incident_.

When at last he reached his chambers, he found Skywalker and Jade asleep in their chairs, hands entwined. _So _that's_ how the star chart lays,_ he smiled. Stepping back into the corridor beyond, he keyed on his comlink. "Thrawn to Admiral Parck."

"_Parck here. Anything wrong?"_

"No, sir. I've finished my talk with Admiral Pellaeon, and things look hopeful on that end. I'm back down at the cloning chamber now, and Skywalker and Jade are asleep. I'll be down here until they wake up."

"_Acknowledged. Parck out."_

Thrawn shut off his comlink and stepped back into the room, stretching as he did so. One or two hours of sleep would not be amiss for him, either.

* * *

"So let me get this straight: Parck adores you, and Pellaeon's willing to accept you, both knowing full well that you're a clone?"

Thrawn arched a dignified eyebrow. "I suppose that is one way to put it."

"Don't let her get to you—she's cranky when she doesn't get enough sleep," Skywalker advised. Jade tossed him a brief glare, which he returned with a sweet smile.

Thrawn simply shook his head and said, "That leaves two people left on my list of contacts."

"Oh?" Skywalker said in genuine surprise. "May I ask who?"

"Onetime smuggler chief Jorj Car'das—" Thrawn nearly smiled at the shock on Jade's face—"and one of my own people: Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano of the Fifth Ruling Family."

"A leader of your people?" Jade frowned, puzzled. "But I thought Thrawn was exiled."

"He was," the clone confirmed. "But when my father was out here, solidifying his secret Imperial presence, he returned to his homeworld to gather his Household Phalanx."

"Stent," Jade murmured.

"Stent," Thrawn nodded. "During that time, Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano contacted him. They were formerly enemies of a sort, the Aristocra disagreeing vehemently with my father's policies and acting as one of the influential voices in bringing about the exile. But now the Aristocra had seen more of the galaxy beyond the Ascendancy's borders and was willing to listen to Father."

"So he became a sort of unofficial ally?" Jade guessed.

"Indeed. They even laid out plans to deal with a certain violent species once those people arose again."

Skywalker looked pensive; Jade looked curious. "What connection do you have to Jorj Car'das?" she asked.

Thrawn grinned widely. "Quite a deep one—they were good friends, once. In fact, Jorj and one of his former shipmates taught my father to speak Basic."

* * *

_Fshzzzzzzzzzzz…_

Ohhh yes, this was _paradise_. Mara twirled under the hot water of the 'fresher, thrilled to be clean after Force knew how many weeks without a shower.

Thrawn had arranged temporary quarters for herself and Luke while he wrapped up his business with his far-flung allies and his home base. Those quarters included refreshers that had real running water. Sonic showers would never beat the feel of a spray of warm water.

She ran her hands through her hair, working out the tangles and snarls. She would have liked some shampoo, but she could easily get by without it. Maybe she should try to fix it in some way that would catch Luke's eye.

She couldn't help grinning at the thought. She _loved_ Luke, and she knew he loved her back. Looks, gestures, tones of voice, holding her hand, that kiss on her forehead…

By rights, it should have worried her—after all, Luke had a history of ill-fated girlfriends. But where Callista and Gaeriel had failed, Mara was determined to succeed.

The one target she hadn't killed—now the one man she couldn't do without. The idea was frightening and thrilling at the same time. And amusingly ironic—just like the fact that the clone of one of their greatest enemies was now determined to become their greatest ally. That was life, wasn't it?

She shook her head. Thrawn was interesting, to say the least. A kid, really, by chronological and biological standards—only from a mental standpoint was he older. Even then, though he was older intellectually, Mara could tell that he thought like a young man. He had the optimism, idealism, and fresh devotion of a boy, tempered only by his father's memories and imparted wisdom.

To be honest, Mara had to admit that she liked him. He had a charisma about him that was certainly his father's in part but also his own. She knew, though, from long experience that such charisma was an excellent weapon in the hands of a capable mind, and had no doubt that Thrawn would use his natural charm to his advantage. Time would tell whether his intentions would remain pure or not.

His appearance really had changed everything. Mara had more than half a mind to accept some kind of position out here with the Empire, if only to keep an eye on Thrawn. If she did accept, he'd probably realize her intention and keep an eye on her in turn, but that was something she was willing to live with. She knew that she'd mellowed out over the years—not by too much, but she had. And with the (_now-needless_) sacrifice of her beloved ship, she thought like a Jedi now more than ever. Hopefully, that kind of thinking would be a good influence on Thrawn.

From the accounts she'd heard here of Grand Admiral Thrawn, she was beginning to think that the man hadn't started out so wrong. Of course, there was the whole _Outbound Flight_ incident, and she made a mental note to ask the clone about that later. But it was sounding like Thrawn had joined the Empire only to protect his people, and somewhere along the way, he hadn't just _joined_ the Empire, he'd _become_ it.

She wasn't about to let the young Thrawn suffer his father's fate.

He was a good kid—she knew it. She wasn't going to let the power he would wield corrupt him.

And _that_ decided it. After fifteen years, she was going to rejoin the Empire.

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair—Luke, Mara, Thrawn, and Parck, all in a private dining room. Thrawn was telling Parck about his conversations with Jorj Car'das and Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano, Mara was listening and watching intently, and Luke was splitting his attention between the Imperials and Mara.

He couldn't help it. Her grey tech's uniform—courtesy of their host—hung slightly baggy on her slender figure, but she still managed to look terrific in it. Her red-gold hair, rather than pulled back into her characteristic braid, fell loose and wavy around her shoulders.

She caught his gaze and winked slightly. He responded with a small smile.

Mara then tilted her head fractionally toward the Imperials, a not-so-subtle hint that he should stop mooning over her and pay attention to what they were saying.

Oh, but it was hard to stop mooning.

At last, Thrawn ended his narrative and turned to his guests. "My apologies for ignoring you, Master Skywalker, Captain Jade," he said, looking properly embarrassed.

"No problem," Mara assured him, waving a dismissive hand. "It's been interesting just listening."

"Yes," Luke nodded. "And please, just call me Luke."

Mara glanced at him, faintly annoyed with him for the offer, then sighed. "You can call me Mara if you want."

Glancing between the two of them, Thrawn smiled slowly. "Very well, then, Luke, Mara."

* * *

Mara cleared her throat—time to move on to another subject. "Yes, well… So, you really think your people's government will cooperate with you?"

Thrawn lifted his glass and appeared to study the play of light on the water. "Not yet. The Nine Families, as a rule, are slow to trust, and as Mitth'raw'nuruodo's heir, I have quite a bit of trust to recover. It won't be easy, and it will take time. I must admit, I'm counting on a few military victories out here to help me along that path."

"'Certain threats'?" Luke suggested. Mara knew he was casting his mind back to the memories he'd glimpsed at inside Thrawn's mind.

Thrawn eyed him. "Indeed."

"What's our game plan for getting you to Bastion?" Mara asked.

Thrawn tilted his head. "Excuse me?"

Green eyes intense, Mara leaned forward in her seat, resting her arms on the table. "How are you going to land, public or private? Will Luke and I be with you, will we be landing after you, will we not be following you at all? Will you introduce yourself as Thrawn's clone or son or even the man himself?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Luke blink. He apparently hadn't considered all that. The word _farmboy_ ran affectionately through her mind.

"Ah," Thrawn said understandingly, leaning back in his own seat and steepling his index and ring fingers. "I've already asked Admiral Pellaeon to make my landing a _controlled_ public event."

"As in, whoever's there won't say anything about it until they're allowed to," Mara surmised.

"Yes. As for you and M—_Luke_—what you do is up to you. You may come with me, or you can return to New Republic. I'm sure you'll be present for a treaty."

"Most likely," Luke nodded. "I don't know about Mara, but frankly, I'm rather curious now as to how Bastion will accept you."

"I'm in if you're in," Mara told him.

"Then I guess we're in," Luke shrugged. "We could follow behind in… ooo…"

The _X-wing_. Mara grimaced. "_Stang_, that's going to be a tight fit." Neither of them voiced the thought running through their heads: Mara would have to be _sitting on top of Luke_ for the several days it would take to reach Bastion.

Thrawn must have realized it, too. "One of you could ride in the shuttle with me until we reach a world close to Imperial space. Then we land, I drop off my passenger, and you two come in a few hours behind me."

Mara glanced Luke's way, conveying her displeasure with the thought of being cramped in an X-wing cockpit with him for just a few hours. She knew he really didn't like the idea anymore than she did, but… What else could they do?

"I suppose that would be acceptable," Luke said slowly.

((http : / / www . youtube . com / watch? v=IsrpihrcXD4&fmt=18))

Thrawn nodded sharply. "Very well. And as to that last question, Mara, I will not hide myself behind a forged birth certificate or my predecessor's identity. Such deceptions always fail in the end, and I would inwardly dread the fallout." He straightened in his seat. "No. To the galaxy, I must be both clone _and_ son."

Luke frowned. "I'm not sure I follow you."

Thrawn leaned forward. "The concept itself is quite simple, really. The Empire needs to accept me as Mitth'raw'nuruodo's clone, as the one man who's inherited the memories and capabilities of the late Grand Admiral."

For the first time since they'd met him, his red eyes blazed with sudden fire, and Mara had a sudden, uncomfortable realization of who this man really was. All this time, he had been acting more like his own person, and abruptly, he'd switched gears on them. In this moment, Grand Admiral Thrawn was alive once more.

"To them," he continued, "I must be the reincarnation of their beloved leader, the man whose perception and tactical brilliance can be counted on."

The fire in his eyes dimmed, and he inched back slightly. "To the New Republic, I will be known as the clone, but I must also be considered the son. While I have all of Mitth'raw'nuruodo's capabilities, I am not Mitth'raw'nuruodo himself." His gaze bored into the two Force-sensitives. "You know this. I share many, many traits with him, but I am _not my father_."

"Maybe you could say… you're what your father _should_ have been," Mara said quietly.

The clone shot her a double-take. "Explain." She winced mentally—that was definitely a command. To make matters worse, Parck was watching the whole thing very intently.

Kriff. Her and her big mouth.

"You're—well, from what I've seen of you," she said carefully, "you're optimistic, idealistic, devoted, charismatic… You've got Thrawn's good qualities, and hopefully none of his bad ones. See, since Luke and I reached this place, I've heard things that make me think that Thrawn hadn't started out so wrong. He was trying to protect his people—okay, that's good. I can understand that—I can respect that."

She leaned forward in her seat again, her green eyes meeting his red ones and holding them. "But let me tell you this: the man I met was _not_ the martyred hero who'd been exiled by his people. Thrawn didn't just _join_ the Empire—he _became_ the Empire. He backed out of deals. He wasn't above using torture. He sought revenge.

"Even at that point in time, I'm willing to concede that Thrawn might have still been a noble man." She leaned in further, her eyes narrowing, her voice hardening. "But by any ethical person's standards, Thrawn was a cruel man, even casually so."

The air had tensed so far as to snap with one wrong move or word. Luke and Parck sat frozen, stunned by her audacity and severity. Thrawn, on the other hand, seemed to be a tensed coil, emotions flickering over his darkened face too quickly for Mara to read.

They held each other's gaze for what felt like a long time.

Ten years ago, a younger, less-trained Mara couldn't have withstood such a contest of wills with Grand Admiral Thrawn for very long. Now, though… now Mara was older, very close to being a Jedi… and Thrawn was a boy, not a Grand Admiral.

But just when she thought she couldn't hold it any longer, Thrawn looked down, and Grand Admiral Thrawn was gone once more. The tension released like air escaping through a damaged hull into space, and Mara figured they all were letting out breaths they hadn't realized they were holding.

"Good men fall," Thrawn murmured.

Mara _felt_ rather than _saw_ the statement capture Luke's attention, and she knew why. Vader. Stang, Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker, Grand Admiral Thrawn and Syndic Thrawn—now _there_ was an interesting comparison.

"Yes, good men fall," Luke said quietly. "And sons have the chance to keep from making the mistakes their fathers did."

Thrawn shot him a double-take, trying to read the subtext in Luke's words and not quite making it. It was then that something clicked into Mara's mind at last, something that had been nagging at the back of her mind for the past ten years.

_Thrawn hadn't known_.

The Noghri revolt had blindsided him because he—just as Mara herself, until near the end—hadn't known that Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa Solo were the children of Darth Vader. Why would he run the risk of having one of those Noghri teams he'd sent to kidnap Leia realize her heritage and switch allegiances, otherwise? It made sense.

Grand Admiral Thrawn hadn't known… and neither, therefore, did his clone.

Luke caught her eye and gave her an acknowledgement through the Force—he'd come to the same conclusion. Mara remained silent: she'd let Luke explain his parentage in his own good time.

Neither Thrawn nor Parck spoke, the latter out of respect, the former in contemplation. The young clone was staring at his glass as if he could burn it up with his gaze.

Mara decided to break the silence once more. "You're a good man, Mitth'raw'nuruodo," she said gently. "Don't fall."

Slowly, Thrawn's head came up, his eyes locking on hers once more. "I won't."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Longest chapter yet! W00t! And got a lot of history in this chapter. That was fun.

Personally, I really like the comparison between Vader and Luke, and Thrawn and Thrawn. The fathers were good men who fell, and their "sons" are good men who are determined to succeed.

And that bit about Thrawn not knowing that Vader was the twins' father… that's something that's been nagging at me for a while now. I really doubt that he would have sent out Vader's former personal assassins for Vader's own daughter if he had known.

Btw, I got two reviews for the prologue, three reviews for the first chapter, and four reviews for the second. By that pattern, I should be getting five reviews for _this_ chapter. Do I expect that many? No. Do I think that many would be awesome? Oh yeah.

_**Please review!**_


	5. Ch04: And Then That Word Grew Louder

**Author's Note:**

Well, here's the next chapter, finally! Sorry for the wait—I got caught up in the other chaptered SW fic I'm doing right now, and I didn't want to lose steam on it. Plus, I'd lost a quite a lot of steam on _this_ fic, unfortunately. Which reminds me—the AU series that I'm working on right now, _Across the Stars_, is shaping up to be pretty big, going from 2 mo. post-AotC to (eventually, I think) NJO. I still have to finish the first installment, but once that's done, it's on to an AU of RotS. And the _third_ installment will be starring Thrawn, alongside prequel characters.

**To my reviewers (I asked for five and I got it! =D):**

dark-kronus: Thank you! Actually, the YouTube links _inside_ the story were on purpose. Not very orthodox, true, but they were right were they needed to be for the readers to start listening to them—which I thought I made clear in my author's note at the beginning. Guess I didn't.

serenity8118: Thank you for reviewing my other fics, too! *grins* Glad you enjoyed them! And "not a word" _may_ be cliché, but it also sounds very much like Thrawn. Anyway, back to the topic at hand… I have heard about the new Zahn book, not that long ago, in fact. SQUEEE~! I can't wait! I can't _believe_ that there's actually going to be a new Thrawn book out there! And if it's a sequel to _Allegiance_ and involves the Hand of Judgment… I'm laying odds that Thrawn will recruit them for the Empire of the Hand and that they'll accept. Any takers?

suzie: Thank you! Luke doesn't quite make it into my list of all-time Star Wars favorites, but Mara _definitely_ does! And thanks—I thought that using the lines from "The Call" for chapter titles was very appropriate. The whole song, I think, fits very well with the story.

Flower pot: Thank you very much! It is sad how few fanfics involve Thrawn, isn't it? Oh, of course, I'll keep updating! I know where I want to go with this—_getting_ there's the thing. *grins*

**==Chapter Four==**

**And Then That Word Grew Louder and Louder**

"_I will do whatever necessary to protect those who depend on me. No more. But no less._"

—Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo, _Outbound Flight_

"Tell me about _Outbound Flight_?"

Surprised, Thrawn swiveled the pilot seat to face her. "Beg pardon?"

"_Outbound Flight_," Mara repeated, settling back into the copilot's seat. She and Thrawn were in the modified _Lambda_ shuttle for a day while Luke took the X-Wing, then they'd land on one planet and she and Luke would switch, and then they'd keep switching until they reached their last point of destination before Bastion. It would add a few more hours total to their trip, but Luke and Mara both wanted to get to know Thrawn better before they reached the Remnant. "Tell me about it," she said, genuinely curious. "Why did Thrawn destroy it?"

Regret flickered over the clone's face. "That was one of his biggest mistakes," he said quietly, "and he never quite forgave himself for it."

Interested, Mara leaned forward.

"How much did Admiral Parck tell you?"

"He told me about Thrawn destroying Palpatine's task force and about Kinman Doriana." Mara settled her elbows on her knees and laced her fingers beneath her chin. "I take it there's more to the story?"

Thrawn smiled bitterly. "Much more. Thrawn was convinced that _Outbound Flight_ had to be stopped, but he refused to consider its destruction as anything but a last-ditch option—there were over fifty thousand people aboard those Dreadnaughts. He tried to talk the Jedi Master in charge, Jorus C'baoth, into turning back."

Mara grimaced. "If the real C'baoth was anything like his clone…"

"Worse, in a way," Thrawn said tightly. "The clone, at least, had some measure of excuse in the way he was cloned—it inevitably led to insanity, which, in turn, led to the Dark Side. The true C'baoth… he _chose_ to fall."

Mara grimaced again. "So what happened?"

"One of the younger Jedi suggested that they go around—"

"Okay, wait," Mara interrupted. "You said that Thrawn was convinced the project had to stop. Why?"

The clone looked away, out at the flowing swirls of hyperspace, and Mara saw that he was trying to judge how much information he should give her. After a few moments of silence, his gaze returned to her. "One of the threats you've heard us refer to—_Outbound Flight_ was headed right in their direction."

"Ouch," Mara said sincerely. "Valid. And your father told C'baoth that?"

"Well, you can guess that he didn't listen."

"Not a difficult conclusion."

Dark humor tugged at Thrawn's lips. "No, not at all." The expression faded, and he continued, "As I was saying, though, one of the younger Jedi suggested that they go around that region of space. C'baoth refused, on the grounds that it would take a significant amount of time for them to do so."

"That arrogant, kriffing _Sithspawn_!" Mara practically spat. "Time was more valuable than the fifty thousand lives he was supposed to protect?"

"Apparently," Thrawn said, disgust evident in his own voice. "In the end, the only way my father could get C'baoth's attention was to destroy all the weapons blisters and shield generators."

"And kill everyone in them," Mara murmured, a shiver rippling down her spine.

Thrawn's expression—his whole sense in the Force, which she could read with startling clarity—begged her to understand. "Mara, he had no other choice. C'baoth wasn't listening, and he couldn't let them walk right into certain death."

"I understand the rationale!" she snapped, green eyes sparking. "That doesn't mean I have to like it!" She instantly regretted her outburst—this was upsetting her more than she'd thought it would, but making the kid feel bad for his father's actions wouldn't help them any.

Thrawn's face hardened, but Mara got the distinct impression that he was steeling himself more against the memories than against her. "C'baoth was horrifically burned and injured in that attack," he said quietly. "When he contacted me—" Mara caught the slip into first-person without visibly reacting—"he was utterly furious. He reached out with the Force to choke me…" His eyes flashed, with resentment and a sense of vulnerability. "I could _feel_ the life draining out of me, bit by bit, and I couldn't do a thing about it."

Mara swallowed hard. Grand Admiral Thrawn had imparted a difficult memory—probably quite vivid—to his clone… who remembered it as if it were his own. "I know," she said quietly.

The vulnerability eased out of his gaze, and he looked away. "The next thing I knew, air was suddenly rushing into my lungs and I was collapsing against my console." He paused. "And everyone aboard _Outbound Flight_ was dead."

Mara frowned. "I'm not tracking you."

"Doriana was there with me," Thrawn explained, his gaze distant. "He saw the switch that was a direct order for an attack on an enemy fleet—and he used it on _Outbound Flight_."

"Because C'baoth was killing you," Mara finished, feeling sick to her stomach. All that life lost, due to the arrogance of one man.

"Yes," Thrawn said quietly. Then he blinked, as if noticing something, and turned back to Mara. "Me? I…" Realization washed over his face, followed by mortification. "I was speaking in first-person."

"If it's a vivid memory, I can see how you could take it as one you lived personally."

Thrawn shook his head. "It was a slip—a bad slip. I can't afford—"

"I'm sure you won't," Mara cut in, as confidently as she could. "So is that all, or is there more?"

Thrawn rubbed the bridge of his nose a moment before answering. "There's more, but believe me when I say that there was so much to the story—probably much more than even my father ever knew—that it would take a good long book to record it satisfactorily."

"Mm."

Thrawn swiveled back to face the forward viewport. "Does that end my interrogation?"

Mara shrugged. "For now, I guess." She gave him a wry look. "Don't worry—I'll think up something equally painful to dredge up later."

His lips twitched, but he merely shook his head.

* * *

On the uninhabited world Thrawn had chosen for a rendezvous, Luke watched as the shuttle's ramp lowered. Mara's boots appeared, followed by her leggings, belt, and…

"Hey there, Skywalker."

"Hi," Luke grinned, vaulting down from his fighter. "You kids behave while I was gone?"

Mara shot him a look that was half-irritated, half-amused, and behind her, Thrawn adopted an almost regal expression. "Real cute," Mara said, deadpan.

"I try." Luke turned back to Artoo, who whistled to himself as he ran checks on the ship. "Artoo? Be good for Mara."

Artoo beeped an affirmative, then tootled something that sounded distinctly mother hawkbat-ish.

"I'll be okay," Luke assured him.

"C'mon, farmboy, let's get a move-on," Mara advised. "We're running on a schedule, you know."

"Right," Luke nodded calmly, belying the wild beating of his heart at the sheer audacity of what he was about to do. "She's all yours."

"Thanks."

It was now or never. As Mara sidled past him, Luke pulled her back by the arm and planted a light kiss on her lips. "See you at the rendezvous," he breathed, managing a faint smile.

She looked—_felt_—surprised and breathless. "See you!" she gasped.

Luke's smile broke out in full force, and he jogged up the ramp, feeling Mara's eyes on him the whole time. Thrawn closed the ramp and moved forward to the cockpit, initiating the preflight checks. Luke noticed the ghost of a smile on his face. "So," the clone said conversationally.

"Drop it," Luke said firmly, watching Mara climb into the X-wing and prepare for takeoff.

"You kiss a former Emperor's Hand right in front of me, and you expect me _not_ to mention it?" Thrawn asked, mildly amused.

Luke sighed. The X-wing lifted from the clearing, and the shuttle's engine revved to life a moment later. The shuttle gracefully rose into the air, following the fighter.

"She's an attractive, talented, intelligent, highly capable woman," Thrawn commented, not taking his gaze from the viewport as they gained altitude.

"Thrawn…"

"My apologies. I'll stop."

Luke just _knew_, though, that the clone was laughing mentally for the next five minutes.

* * *

The next few days were mostly uneventful, until, on the last leg of their voyage before Luke and Mara crammed themselves into the X-wing, Thrawn asked a question.

"Luke?"

"Mm?" Luke looked up from a datapad he'd been perusing. "What?"

The other wore a pensive frown. "At our dinner with Admiral Parck, when we were talking about the difference between myself and my father, you said that sons have the chance to keep from making the same mistakes their fathers did. You sounded as though the words held some significance for you."

Luke relaxed in his seat and set the datapad aside. "I was wondering when you were going to ask about that."

Thrawn raised one eloquent eyebrow.

Shaking his head, Luke exhaled forcefully. "It's something of a long story, but I suppose I can shorten it enough." He looked Thrawn in the eye. "My father made a lot of mistakes. He's still known as being one of the worst mass-murderers in history."

The clone's face remained impassive, but Luke could sense the younger man trying to fit the puzzle pieces together. After half a minute, he frowned. "Darth Vader."

Luke wasn't really surprised that Thrawn could figure it out—after all, there were only so many mass-murderers in recent history to whom Luke Skywalker could be related. "Yes," he said quietly. "His real name was Anakin Skywalker."

Thrawn's frown deepened. "I knew that Anakin Skywalker was your father, but that he had become Darth Vader…"

"I'm still more than a little sketchy on the details, myself," Luke admitted, "but it's true. Anakin became Vader."

Thrawn exhaled explosively. "No wonder you said what you did."

Luke's lips twitched. "Yeah." His gaze turned to the forward viewport. "He turned back at the end, though. To save me from the Emperor. That's why they both died."

Thrawn nodded slowly.

Luke sighed and laid a hand on the boy's arm. "Thrawn, more than anyone else, Leia and I know what it's like to live under the shadow of your father. I've been living under that shadow for fifteen years, and it doesn't get any easier with time. But whatever happens after we hit Bastion, however you decide to play this… I'll be here for you. You won't have to live alone under your father's shadow. If ever you need to talk things out, or just need someone to be there with you, I'll be here. That's a promise, okay?"

Thrawn smiled faintly. "You Jedi give your promises freely if you vow such a thing to an Imperial."

Luke returned the smile. "You're the type of Imperial I feel safe in doing that. I don't think you'll let us—any of us—down."

Chiss eyes were so very different from human eyes, but Luke could tell that, in that moment, Thrawn's red gaze was warm. "Thank you, Luke."

* * *

It hadn't been fun, cramming Luke and Mara into the X-wing. It hadn't been fun for Mara, who was trying hard not to crush Luke as she tried to figure out how to get into the cockpit and settle on top of him without hurting him—and it hadn't been fun for Luke when she inevitably failed in that goal. After a lot of _ow_'s from Luke and a lot of cursing from Mara, they'd finally settled into something halfway workable.

"I've been in a lot of tight spots before," Mara grunted, as both of them worked the controls, "but this has to take the prize."

"Hey, at least you're not on the –_grunt_– _receiving_ end here," Luke grumbled back.

It took five more minutes of arguing and reaching around each other to get them into hyperspace. Mara shifted carefully so that she could lean on the side of the cockpit rather than fall completely back on Luke. "Better?" she asked.

"A little," he admitted, his cerulean eyes meeting her emerald ones. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," she said wryly. "You know, Skywalker, I don't mind being close to you, but this is a little ridiculous."

Luke burst out laughing. When he could contain himself sufficiently, he managed, "Likewise. Good thing there're no reporters around."

Mara groaned. "They'd have a field day! _Grand Jedi Master in his X-wing with former-Imperial-turned-smuggler girlfriend for several hours_. Yeaaah. That'd go down _really_ well."

"Girlfriend?" Luke echoed, grinning.

Mara almost blushed. "That's what _they_ would say."

"Ah." His eyes and tone were far too knowing.

"Look, Luke—"

"Mara?" His blue, blue eyes were soft now—soft, but almost nervous.

She successfully resisted the urge to squirm on top of him. "Yes?"

"Look, throughout this whole thing…" He faltered, then frowned, as if unsure of what exactly he wanted to say.

Mara decided to help him along. "You didn't know, but after that pirate base thing, Faughn told me you and I made a good team. She's right. We really do."

Luke nodded slightly. "We do." The weight of his electric blue gaze intensified. "You know, throughout this whole thing, something's been happening to me. To us. We're growing so close in the Force that it is almost like we're becoming a single person. It's… it's something very special."

She lifted an eyebrow, amusement flickering through her—there was such an oddly awkward earnestness to his expression. "Really?" she asked, keeping her voice as deadpan as possible, under the circumstances. "How special?"

He grimaced. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?" he growled.

"Oh, come now," she said, mock-accusingly. "When have I ever made anything easy for you?'

"Not very often," he conceded. Visibly bracing himself, he reached around her waist and took her hands. She felt a sudden shift in the Force just before he spoke again. "Mara… will you marry me?"

She almost considered herself honor-bound to make him sweat, just a little. But after all that had happened… Besides, there was no reason for old defensive patterns to come into play. Not now. Not with him.

She loved him too much.

"Yes. I will."

* * *

Several hours away through hyperspace, a very different sort of bond was about to be formed on the current capital of the Imperial Remnant. Admiral Gilad Pellaeon stood at the head of the assemblage in the chosen hangar, awaiting the arrival of a _Lambda_ shuttle. All that Pellaeon had told the stormtroopers and naval officers present was that they were to welcome a surprise visitor. And, he'd also warned, the visitor would not be whom they would first think when they saw him.

At last, his comlink chimed, and he keyed it on. "Yes?"

"_Expected _Lambda_-class shuttle approaching, named the _Mitth'ras'safis."

"Excellent." It was just like the Grand Admiral, really, given his extensive and invaluable usage of cloning. Pellaeon was rather surprised that he'd never considered the possibility before now.

Heart hammering out an insistent but steady rhythm, he watched as the white shuttle drew near and touched down gently. Ten years…

The men snapped to attention.

The ramp lowered.

Pellaeon swallowed thickly.

A dark figure appeared in the mouth of the shuttle, stepped out into the lights of the hangar.

Time froze for the hundred-odd Imperials present.

"Greetings, Admiral Pellaeon," a smooth, cultured voice said.

For the first time in ten years, Pellaeon stood face to face with Thrawn.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Ooo, _now_ things are getting good!

I feel so bad for Luke, being squished beneath Mara and all. Oh well, at least he got the girl—literally. xD I've read alternate versions of the proposal before, but in the end, I decided to stick very closely to the original. It might not be as romantic as some people would prefer, but… it's Luke and Mara, you know? Even in the midst of their romancing, they have to make things awkward or difficult for each other. …Kinda like Han and Leia, come to think of it.

_**Please review!**_


	6. Ch05: Till It Was a Battle Cry

**Author's Note:**

Sorry for the long delay! Here's hoping I can actually get this fic finished before November! I don't actually have that far to go, but I had to get another fic finished and its sequel started, and I had connection issues, _and_ I now have a beta! _**Muchas gracias**_** to Lady Ravena for all her help and witty comments!** Trust me when I say that this chapter is much better for her having looked it over. Now go read her Thrawn fics—they're terrific!

Oh yes, and one more thing! **There is a new Thrawn forum here on FF.N!** Just go to my profile, click "My Forums," and go to "Mitth'raw'nuruodo." And help bring my little forum to life, please—we need more people!

**To my reviewers:**

Imperial Warlord: Thrawn will tell them, don't worry. ^^

serenity8118: Of course it's a cliffie! ;-) Hope this chapter delivers!

Historian 1912: You _definitely_ have to read the Thrawn Trilogy, and the _Hand of Thrawn_ duology would not be amiss, either. The short stories "Mist Encounter," "Command Decision," and "Side Trip" Parts 1-4 would also be good.

Lord Tom: Well, thank you very much! I do have an unfortunate tendency to leave some of my works in another fandom unfinished, but inspiration for those stories comes less often, and I receive less feedback due to it being a smaller fandom. I don't think you have to worry about me leaving behind an SW fic! ^^

I can say for certain that there is a collection of one-shots in the works as a follow-up to this fic: missing scenes and other sequel pieces that are too defocused to make a fic in their entirety. As for a full sequel, well, that's entirely possible! Clone Thrawn does rather have better moral principles, if only because he understands where end-justifies-means thinking can take him, thanks to his father.

Chiss, as a rule, are very disciplined, very duty-oriented, and very family-oriented. And none too emotional. …Clone Thrawn just hasn't had much _personal_ contact with his people, yet. ^^ Anyway, thank you for the lovely review! Made my day!

Mireilles3: Thank you! I'll keep it coming, and hope you continue to enjoy!

effique: …Wow, your review had to be one of the more interesting ones that I've gotten over the past couple of years. ^^ I do appreciate that your review was long and kind of rambling, 'cause I got to see more of your thought process, and it softened the less positive parts. No hard feelings, really! I'm glad you've been enjoying it, and I'm glad you subscribed. Now, let's see if I can make this reply short 'n' sweet.

Someday, I'd _like_ to do a take on Thrawn VS. the Vong, but I'm not sure. If I do, it'll be far in the future. Meantime, there's another writer, Davin Sunrider, who will be starting a fic in the next few months, set in his _One Missed Strike_ universe—dealing with the YV invasion, and in which Thrawn and an unburned!Vader go up against the Vong, presumably alongside the NR. You should check out his series—it's good.

I liked the clone relating that memory 1st person. The way I figure it—and I might be off, but this is how I figure it—is that he sees the imprinted memories, for the most part as something between _personal_ memories and remembering scenes from a holovid. And if he chooses to hone in on a memory, like a zoom lens, then it gets more personal. And then there are certain memories that are quite vivid and very personal: Thrawn's highs and lows. Already distanced like that from his host's memories, the clone also might have already had enough time to come to grips with things by the time Luke and Mara showed up—it shouldn't have taken that long, anyway, since Thrawn (be he original or clone) is very fast on the draw.

Timothy Zahn has said that a clone of Thrawn would understand that he was not the original and that he had an enormous responsibility to live up to (check Wookieepedia). Along those lines, I can imagine that the clone might want to acknowledge Thrawn as his _father_, rather than his _template_, because otherwise, he's quite alone in family terms, and family is extremely important to the Chiss.

Clone Thrawn hasn't had much chance yet to be much of anything other than "nice," as it were. He's been having to do a lot of "sweet talking" (albeit, _dead serious_ sweet talking) to get himself accepted by several people. Not only that, but in _Outbound Flight_, the real twenties-something Thrawn was pretty doggone nice himself to Jorj Car'das, Maris Ferasi, and Dubrak Qennto. I would argue that the clone still does have many traits of the original—the biggest difference being that he acts _younger_ and more open and can sort of turn the Grand Admiral in him off and on. I would also argue that, in _Outbound Flight_, Thrawn might not have biologically been much older than his clone in this story, and he was pretty gun-ho himself. He _could_ "save the galaxy," he _knew_ it, and he _acted_ upon it—similarly, the clone knows that the reason for his very _existence_ is to "save the galaxy," and he knows he can. And clone Thrawn _has_ been and will continue to reserve some information—after this chapter, if you look, you can catch it. I also wouldn't say that his decisions are affected by his emotions, and even if they are, you can give him a little slack via _Outbound Flight_ once more—it can be argued that Thrawn's regard for Maris _did_ affect a couple of his decisions. That book is more where I'm getting my characterization from than any other Thrawn tale.

To wrap up this little discussion on the clone, I'll quote something my beta said, after pointing out that Soontir Fel's clones had very different personalities from the Baron himself: "So, all a clone does is take the original's template and make it his own. If he slips into Thrawn mode too much, he risks blurring the line between the Syndic and the Admiral." That's definitely a line that the clone does _not_ want to blur.

Okay (so much for "short 'n' sweet" *rolls eyes at self*)… Ooo, glad you liked the Luke/Mara, and the fluff! And yes, this chapter gets a little, mm, _harsher_, maybe, for Junior. Hopefully, you'll enjoy him in the first scene. Thank you once again!

**

* * *

==Chapter Five==**

**Till It Was a Battle Cry**

"_There's a degree of risk involved. But risk has always been an inescapable part of warfare._"

—Grand Admiral Thrawn, _Heir to the Empire_

Pellaeon's lips compressed to a thin, angry line as he watched the _circus show_ of Moffs before him. How a mere seven men could make so much noise arguing was beyond him. He had had just enough time to greet Thrawn's clone before he'd had to preside over an emergency meeting with the politicians. The Empire was still in an uproar from Disra's coup, with no clear ending in sight to the madness.

Of course, it might not have helped Pellaeon's relations with the Moff Council that he'd ordered Disra's execution, but the man had been a traitor, clear and simple.

An aide entered the room and hurried over to Pellaeon's side. "Admiral, the, ah, _Syndic_ wishes to enter," the young man whispered.

Pellaeon nodded. "Send him in." He settled back in his seat and folded his hands—he still wasn't entirely certain of this young clone, but the next several minutes promised to be most interesting.

The door hissed open, and a black uniformed figure stepped into the room. A couple of the Moffs noticed the new arrival right away, and stared at him slack-jawed. It took the others a few moments to notice the newcomer, but when they did, the room descended into a shocked silence.

The face was younger, but it was undoubtedly that of Grand Admiral Thrawn.

"Greetings, Admiral Pellaeon, Your Excellencies," the clone said, bowing slightly.

"Welcome, Syndic Mitth'raw'nuruodo," Pellaeon nodded gravely, glad that he had taken the time to practice the difficult name. Privately, he was enjoying the bewildered expressions of the seven politicians before him.

Moff Hort was the first to break the pause that followed. "What is this?" he demanded, eyes flicking back and forth between Pellaeon and Mitth'raw'nuruodo. "Who are you?"

The clone focused a cool, deliberating gaze on the man. "You may, perhaps, know me better by my core name, Thrawn."

"Another imposter!" Moff Quillan spat.

The clone turned to Quillan, his expression dropping a few degrees in temperature. "I am no impostor, Moff Quillan, I assure you," he said coolly. "I am genetically one-hundred-percent Grand Admiral Thrawn."

It took them a few more moments to digest that, and then it was Andray that spoke, his tone matching Mitth'raw'nuruodo's, his expression contemptuous. "A clone. You're a _clone_."

Unperturbed, Mitth'raw'nuruodo inclined his head toward Andray. "Correct, Your Excellency."

"What are you doing here?" Bemos demanded.

The clone arched an eyebrow. "I should have thought it obvious—I am here to aid the Empire."

"And just how do you propose to do that?" said Edan skeptically.

"I retain most of the late Grand Admiral's memories," Mitth'raw'nuruodo said, his tone the same tone that Pellaeon had heard the Grand Admiral use many times to lay out his plans, "and I have flash-learned a wealth of information. I also—" he stepped forward to stand directly before the end of the table—"have inherited his tactical and leadership abilities. The Empire has been adrift for far too long. I wish to return a sense of purpose to it."

"And just what purpose do you propose?" Hort sneered. "And why should we allow you into the Empire at all? We've just suffered from an attempted coup on the part of one of our own and a _clone_, supposedly also bearing Thrawn's military genius."

Mitth'raw'nuruodo's eyes narrowed, and his next words held an edge. "Oh, Major Tierce certainly bore Thrawn's military genius, Your Excellency—make no mistake of that. Had Admiral Pellaeon not received data from outside sources, the Empire would have continued to follow the plans of a tactically-brilliant stormtrooper clone, and you would never have been the wiser."

He straightened perceptibly, morphing in an instant from a civilian to a warrior, the powerful and nearly regal air of Grand Admiral Thrawn settling upon him. The Moffs all felt the change. Pellaeon himself could not help but be impressed.

"There has been enough infighting," Mitth'raw'nuruodo said firmly, his glowing eyes intense. "And enough of this bloody, unnecessary conflict with the New Republic. We face an impending challenge, gentlemen, that will test us all.

"You all know of the Grand Admiral's 'exile' to the Unknown Regions. What you do _not_ know, however, is that the Grand Admiral engineered his fall from grace with the Emperor himself." Mitth'raw'nuruodo paused to let that sink in.

"Preposterous!" Hort spluttered.

The clone eyed him coolly. "Believe what you will." He let his gaze roam over the rest of the Moffs. "The fact remains that Grand Admiral Thrawn spent his years in the Unknown Regions building up a substantial Imperial presence. It was to be the vanguard of defense against the multitude of threats in the Unknown Regions."

"Multitude!" Quillan snorted. "If there are so many enemies out there, why have we yet to see them?"

The clone favored him with an even colder look. "Because it is that Imperial presence, coupled with the Defense Fleet of my own people, that keeps those enemies at bay. There are hundreds of threats out there that would freeze your blood if you knew of them. Be grateful you do not."

A heartbeat, and Sander blinked and shook his head. "How substantial is 'substantial'?"

"One hundred sectors," Mitth'raw'nuruodo replied promptly.

The small council exploded in disbelief. Pellaeon let it go for twenty seconds, counting them down in his head, and then stood. "Enough! Your Excellencies, let the Syndic continue."

Mitth'raw'nuruodo waited for all the men to retake their seats, then nodded to Pellaeon. "Thank you, Admiral. It is true, Your Excellencies. The Empire in the Unknown Regions indeed holds one hundred sectors, with several colonies and multiple garrisons, intel centers, shipyards, and alliances. Directing the operations since the Grand Admiral's death is Admiral Voss Parck, who is continuing the work Thrawn began. If I enter the Remnant, rest assured the Empire in the Unknown Regions will follow."

"And if you do not, they will not," Vered guessed. "Are you trying to blackmail us?"

"Not at all, You Excellency," the clone countered mildly. "I am simply pointing out the facts. With a hundred sectors at my disposal, I hardly need the eight sectors left to the Remnant, save for the political value."

"You want us to make you the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy," Andray said flatly. "You want your host's position."

"I was _created_ for my host's position," Mitth'raw'nuruodo corrected. "I was the Grand Admiral's backup—I was meant to continue his work if he should die. As I said, there is an impending challenge on the horizon. Thrawn wanted to ensure that, whether by himself or by his clone, the galaxy would be prepared to face that challenge."

"And this challenge is~?" Sander prompted.

The clone's face hardened. "Roughly fifty years ago, a hostile, extragalactic species entered the Unknown Regions, unlike anything previously seen. These warriors were incredibly deadly, using organic technology that outmatched the technology my people possessed at the time. Our sound thrashing convinced the Far Outsiders to avoid that part of space, but we still receive reports from time to time. They are still out there, and I believe that we will see them mobilize against both the Remnant and the New Republic in less than a decade."

He leaned forward marginally, his entire manner intense. "They are a vast people, these Far Outsiders. One can gather from various intel that their population is at least as large as the human population of this galaxy, and possibly larger."

"But how could such an enormous populace keep secret?" Edan asked, incredulous.

"It is simple enough to hide from the galaxy proper when you wait on the sheer edge of it," Mitth'raw'nuruodo replied, something in his tone sending a chill down Pellaeon's spine.

Bemos shook his head. "How do we know we can trust you?"

"You don't, just yet," the clone conceded calmly. "But realize that the stakes are high. If I am wrong and you dismiss me, you lose nothing, save the chance to grow and thrive once more." He leaned forward and pressed his hands on the table. "But if I am _right_ and you dismiss me, you will lose much more than the Remnant."

* * *

As soon as the door to his planetside office hissed shut, Pellaeon allowed his posture to sag. "I suppose that went about as well as could be expected." He sank into his seat behind the desk.

"Indeed," Mitth'raw'nuruodo said, taking a chair before the desk. "I'd fully expected to fight all the way, but Andray, Sander, Edan, and Vered were not fully opposed to me by the end. I intend to keep an eye on all of them, though—especially Bemos, Hort, and Quillan."

"Agreed," Pellaeon said gravely. He leaned back in his chair. "I must say, you put on quite the performance in there."

The clone's brow furrowed slightly. "It was no performance, sir."

"Oh? Explain to me, then, how you shifted from a civilian—cool and deliberating, but a civilian, nonetheless—to a Grand Admiral in the space of one second. Disra's con artist Flim can pull the same transformation, you know."

Mitth'raw'nuruodo's eyebrows arched. "You believe I was acting?" A beat, and then: "You still don't trust me."

"Perhaps I don't," Pellaeon said coolly, eyes searching the younger man's face. The clone could be quite open when he wanted to be, unlike his predecessor, who had maintained his reserve. Whether that was a personality difference or merely the result of the clone's youth, Pellaeon didn't know. Right now, he could tell that the boy was frustrated.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Admiral," Mitth'raw'nuruodo said stiffly. "I'm doing my best. Being a Grand Admiral is still an intrinsic part of me, but it's not the only aspect of my personality. I can be Thrawn, and I _am_ Thrawn, but at the same time, I'm not." He ran a hand through his hair, obviously frustrated with himself. "I'm not certain how to explain it further."

Looking up, he met Pellaeon's eyes, and Pellaeon had a difficult time holding that penetrating crimson gaze. "Give me a test, if you doubt me. Something that would not be high risk, but important enough that I can prove myself."

Pellaeon's eyes narrowed. "The _Chimaera_ is to meet with the _Errant Venture_ in eight more days for the peace treaty. I want you to be there with me."

Mitth'raw'nuruodo inclined his head. "As you wish."

Pellaeon tapped a finger on the desk for a few moments, then added, "I assume you flash-learned Carida academy training?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. We have a new _Imperial II_-class Star Destroyer that needs a name _and_ a captain. I can hand you my position as Supreme Commander of the Navy, but only the Moff Council and I _together_ can make you a Grand Admiral. I believe it may be some time before you're able to acquire that commission—therefore, I am commissioning you to be captain of my newest Star Destroyer. You may name it, if you wish."

The clone regarded him steadily. "Thank you, sir," he said at last. "I accept."

Pellaeon arched an eyebrow. "And your ship?"

The clone's gaze went distant, and Pellaeon had an abrupt flash of déjà vu, having seen that look in the Grand Admiral many times. "The _Vigilant_."

* * *

"Inconceivable!" Hort expostulated. "Handing the reins of the Empire to a clone! An _alien_ clone, at that!"

"A _boy_ alien clone," Quillan added. The two Moffs were dining together at one of the few upscale restaurants in the city. "Not the best combination, is it?"

"Not at all. And Pellaeon will let the _thing_ walk all over him."

"I'm not so sure about that," Quillan reasoned. "Pellaeon seemed pretty cold."

Hort snorted. "Yes, but Pellaeon also served under the _real_ Thrawn—second-in-command, no less. Just you wait: it won't take him long to warm up."

"And what, precisely, do you suggest we do about it?" Quillan asked pointedly.

Hort looked his colleague in the eye. "Prevent it from happening."

Quillan's face hardened. "Kill the boy and you'll make him a martyr. It'd be better to frame him for something, make him fall out of grace."

"Do you really think that'll work?" Hort said derisively. "If the boy _does_ have one ounce of his host's intelligence, we'll never be able to outmaneuver him."

"And just _how_ do you propose to kill him?"

Hort settled back in his chair. "Leave that to me. Just don't breathe a word of this to anyone else, or Pellaeon will have our heads." Disra's fate was a very fresh memory.

"My lips are sealed," Quillan said wryly.

* * *

"_Ack!_ Mara, you're choking me!"

"Sorry!" Mara's elbow shifted down, away from Luke's throat—

To jab into his chest. "Ow!"

"Well, for star's sakes, I'm _trying_!" she growled. "Landing this kriffing thing is harder than getting it airborne!"

"Just sit still and let me land it with the Force," Luke groaned.

"Is that really nece…" Mara's voice trailed off as she twisted around to meet Luke's hardening gaze.

"_Yes_. If you want me to _survive_ this landing, yes."

Her shoulders slumped. "All right, all right."

"Thank you." Luke reached out with the Force and held the ship on course with the flight path the controller had given them. As cramped and uncomfortable as he was, he couldn't help but think that this was truly making history: an X-wing flying into the Imperial capital under a white flag, and two non-dark Jedi giving their aid to the Empire.

Hopefully, it was a sign of better things to come.

* * *

They touched down on a private pad near Admiral Pellaeon's planetside residence. Getting _out_ of the X-wing proved to be as painful as getting _in_, and once it was over, they were about as irritated with each other as two people who'd just agreed to get married could be.

A frowning aide led them from the pad to Pellaeon's office in short order. Waiting while the aide went in to announce their arrival, Mara had just enough time to run her hands through her hair to ensure that it didn't look too messy before the aide returned and told them to go inside. Mara and Luke traded a glance before stepping into the room.

Mara had never met Pellaeon in-person, but she had seen several holos. Medium height, white hair and mustache, brown eyes, lined face, perfect posture. There was durasteel in the man, as well as an air of quiet dignity that good men in the military achieved in several decades of service.

"Welcome, Master Skywalker, Captain Jade," Pellaeon greeting, rising from his chair.

"Admiral Pellaeon, a pleasure to meet you," Luke said, extending his arm over the desk and shaking the Admiral's hand.

Not military and not strictly Jedi, Mara settled for a respectful nod. "Admiral Pellaeon." Her eyes were drawn to the side, where she noted Thrawn sitting quietly. Her lips twitched. "Syndic."

He smiled faintly up at her. "Hello, Mara. Hello, Luke."

"Hello, Thrawn," Luke nodded back, his blue eyes smiling.

Pellaeon glanced between the two of them and Thrawn, his expression inscrutable. "Please, be seated."

"Thank you," said Luke, settling into the proffered chair.

"Thank you," Mara echoed, taking the other unoccupied seat.

"I must admit, Master Jedi," Pellaeon began, focusing on Luke, "I'm not quite sure _why_ you've come ahead of the embassy for the New Republic."

Mara could tell that Luke was picking his words carefully. "You could say, sir, that we're here for moral support—Syndic Thrawn's. I assume he explained how we stumbled across him out in the Unknown Regions." He flashed a brief smile at the clone. "We figured he could use a little encouragement."

Thrawn smiled back, an expression that did not quite reach his eyes. Mara frowned, then returned her attention to the Admiral when he spoke again.

"You're here simply as friends?" Pellaeon asked disbelievingly.

Mara cocked her head. "Mostly. I must admit, we were curious to see how Bastion would take Thrawn's appearance."

"Thus far, I have not made a truly _public_ appearance," Thrawn said quietly.

"Probably a good idea," Mara reasoned. Her frown deepened. "Thrawn, is something wrong? You seem a little… tense."

Dry humor tugged at the clone's lips. "A meeting with the Moffs will do that to you."

"Oooo," Mara said sympathetically. "_That_ would explain it, all right."

Thrawn laughed silently for a moment in spite of himself. "I must admit, it's frustrating. Most of the men out in the Unknown Regions would welcome me with open arms—here, I have to fight to get them to listen to me."

"The men out there are your father's men," Luke said gently. "The men _here_ aren't—not the majority, anyway. You had to know this would happen."

Thrawn exhaled. "Oh, I knew, all right." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I suppose I'm tired. I need to regain my father's endurance."

Mara nodded sympathetically, then frowned at herself. Just _when_ did she become a mother hawk-bat?

Luke pursed his lips thoughtfully, then returned his attention to Pellaeon. "Admiral, when and where are you meeting with the New Republic?"

"Eight days," Pellaeon replied. "The _Chimaera_ will rendezvous with the _Errant Venture_."

Mara snorted incredulously. "Since when did Booster Terrik get stuck pulling ambassadorial duty?"

One corner of Thrawn's mouth pulled back. "Since he 'got stuck' under the command of General Garm Bel Iblis."

"_What?_" Luke and Mara said together, eyes wide. "We haven't been away _that_ long!" Mara added.

Thrawn spread his hands. "I think there was some maneuvering done."

Mara leaned back in her seat and folded her arms, her green eyes flicking from Thrawn to Pellaeon. "Admiral, what's _your_ take on all this? Are you really accepting Thrawn into the Remnant?"

Pellaeon threw a clearly assessing look at Thrawn before replying. "I believe Mitth'raw'nuruodo shares his predecessor's vision," the older man said slowly. "And I think he can affect a coalition between the Imperial Remnant and the New Republic."

Thrawn remained pensively silent.

"Thrawn?" Mara prompted slowly. "C'mon, kid, don't be sullen."

A smile flashed across the clone's lips before he could suppress it. "I'm hardly being sullen—I'm thinking."

Mara arched an eyebrow invitingly.

Thrawn looked up and met her eyes. "The Moffs, the Remnant, the Unknown Regions, the Chiss, the New Republic, the peace treaty, the Far Outsiders… so many different aspects, and they're all coming to a head."

Luke caught Mara's eye before saying, "Mara and I have been getting that sense, too, lately."

Thrawn shook his head. "There's a war on the horizon the likes of which we've never seen before. The Empire and the New Republic need each other in order to survive." He turned to Pellaeon. "Sir, we _must_ make the Moffs and the upper echelons of the military see that."

The Admiral looked pensive for a moment. "I will do what I can, Captain. I can't promise you any more."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Wow, only two more chapters and an epilogue! Next chapter—the Remnant and the NR meet. And yes, life will get dangerous, once more.

_**Please review!**_


End file.
